Mind......

Home.....

.... scary, scary things here, rubberneckers......... but it is what it is......

..... in other news, I found an old song tonight that brought back some memories for me.....

.... and while I am not remotely from West Virginia, I do remember listening to this song on the radio as The Missus and I pulled up to the home of The Inlaws in Scotland........ and I cried....... I sat there in the car and cried......... if you listen to the song, you might understand just a bit about what it means to be "Home"....... we all miss our homes at one point or another.......

..... that was many, many years ago...... and now, well, the shoe is on the other foot, to use the eternal euphemism.......... but still, the song moves me.........

.... and yes, Fretkillr does a much better job than Mr. Denver............

...... enjoy the song, fellow travelers......... it is a beautiful piece of music......

Comments were closed on the Charleston thread. You should let me know who your kin is and where buried. Perhaps I may do homage in your stead. . . or perhaps an unholy Blog Meet in the Holy City is in order!

As a teenager, I was a big John Denver fan - probably because I was a mountain girl and maybe because I saw him in concert before he became famous. So I love "Country Roads." My cousin used to pick and sing at family reunions and did a great job on this song.

Ancestors......

.... I found, today, that an ancestor of my own namesake was one of the "first fleet" at Charleston, South Carolina in 1670.... his land grant came through in July of 1672........ evidently he had been an early colonist of Barbados before being whisked off to Charleston........ he's also the "first known white burial in South Carolina".... his tomb still exists in downtown Charleston.......

... in other news, I also found that another relative of mine, a one Sir Thomas Lunsford, qualifies me as a member of The Jamestown Society - with him having arrived in Virginia in 1649......... but with his record, I can't help but wonder just how happy Virginia was to have him there!....... he was, after all, a King's Man....... and no doubt, he met - or at least knew - one of my other ancestors who fought on the opposite side...... and who actually administered the Oath to Mr. Cromwell......

Dude! I'm just now submitting my papers for Jamestowne. My guy is Braswell. I'm also submitting for Mayflower tonight as well. (I'm emailing all the various registrars my apps.) At Thanksgiving, my Dad toasts to George Soule's fecundity... ;-)

I was telling my Dad about this last night, via email. He said, "Hey, our ancestor may have known his ancestor", to which I replied, "Uh, yeah. I hope his ancestor didn't EAT our ancestor..." Bonus for us, I've not found anything that says my ancestor was anyone's dinner... :)

You got the swaggering ruffian part pretty much to a tee. Not sure how the rest applies.

As for me, I could give a rat's ass about the blood line. How many 'drunk Irish cast offs of some ill repute' do I need to suffer through before I get the total picture?

Not too many, homeboy. Not too god damn many.

Hey, I saw an R8 Convertible today. About took the draw bar off the Mud Mobile in traffic. Bitchin' car sez me. Trade that pedestrian Audi you have now in on one of those beasts, call me when the deal is done, and let's go assault Clingman's - Park Service be damned.

Bet we can get into Deep Creek before they have the road blocks set......

Been doing research as well... found some 2nd cousin marriages, murder and a few other items... no cannabilism. Though I always said I didn't want a rich person as a past relative because then I will think about how far we have fallen... at least this way I can see how far we have gotten. ;-)

... thanks, guys.... as for the cannibalism thing, I'm pretty sure that it was the 1600s equivalent of calling a soldier that you didn't like a "baby-killer".... I doubt Lunsford ate many livers, but he WAS one helluva a soldier for the King....

Coaches....

..... I read this article with great interest...... and if you are a fan of SEC football, I suggest that you do the same, for it is, after all, quite enlightening in regards to historic SEC coaches......

.... back in the summer of 1982, my Father arrived home from work a bit early on a Friday, and proclaimed that we - as a family - would spend the weekend camping at Indian Boundary Lake - a beautiful campsite just north of Tellico Plains, Tennessee....

.... I remember the summer of 1982 as being exceedingly hot and humid...... the previous winter had produced icicles the size of tree trunks, and the summer didn't disappoint in the humidity department either....

... that was, of course, the summer between Mr. Majors coaching The Volunteers to a win in the 1981 Garden State Bowl vs. Wisconsin, and the 1982 Peach Bowl where Iowa beat us 28-22.....

... anyway, my Father was not much of a football fan back in the day and neither was I..... but on that clear, sweltering Sunday evening as we drove down the mountain from our weekend campsite at Indian Boundary, he was in an unusually festive mood..... (perhaps Momma had scratched an itch or two in the tent while my little brother and I fell asleep on the ground near the campfire..) .... hey, stranger things have happened, right?....

.... but in reality, I don't recall most of that long ago weekend trip....... it was hot, sure..... and mosquitoes dive-bombed us like Messersmitts over Dunkirk...... oh, and the lake was full of nibbling fish and alga-blooms.... but other than that, I remember blue skies, laughing children, and roasted marshmallows.... and I also remember Johnny Majors.....

.... the drive down the mountain to Tellico was only about 15 miles or so, but in The World Before Cell Phones, a broken-down vehicle meant either hitching or hoofing.... well, that's where we found Mr. Majors..... I remember my Mom and Dad rubbernecking an abandoned car - pushed to the side of the mountain road as we slowed to peek for foul play..... hood up, driver's side door ajar, there was no one to be seen...... but after zipping by a few more curves, a lone, disheveled, staggering fellow was seen in the distance...... and figuring that it was the owner of the car (and figuring rightly, of course.), my Father stopped and offered the hard-luck gentleman a lift into town.....

.... he was a sight to behold.... smelling of day-old bourbon and sporting a few flecks of leaflitter in his wild hair, he said nary a word as he climbed into the back seat with my little brother and I.... I remember my Mother saying, "Hello.".... and my Father inquiring as to where he was headed.... but for the most part, conversation would best be described as scant..... bordering on non-existent.....

..... anyhoo, once we arrived in downtown Tellico Plains we docked our 1972 Impala land-yacht at a Mom & Pop gas station and Dad popped the front seat forward so that Johnny could exit..... I remember him creaking a bit and moaning as the bright sunlight hit is eyes - the big back seat of an old Impala had obviously protected him from the Sunshine's angry glare....

.... my Dad walked him over to a payphone and asked him if he'd be alright..... I couldn't hear exactly what was said, but I remember seeing my Father suddenly dip into his front pockets for some change... he handed over what he found, and made his way back to the car....

... things were quiet for the rest of the ride home.... country roads curved by as we passed farms, fields, and hillsides...... it wasn't until a few weeks had passed and we had my Uncle & his family over for dinner that I was finally clued in on the identity of my fellow back-seat traveler...

.... Uncle Bob was greedily gnawing on a freshly grilled ribeye when my Pa started in..... "You are a football fan, arentcha?..... Well, you'll never guess who I picked up heading for Coker Creek drunker than Cooter Brown a couple weeks ago...... it was Johnny Majors...... sumbitch still owes me sixty cents for the payphone, too...".....

.... hey, we all knew that he was one helluva football coach.... but I also know that - once up on a time - he could pull an all-nighter with the best of 'em.....

Music....

.... tonight's earworm, gentle rubberneckers........ behold....

.. if you wish to sing along, here are the lyrics......

... this one actually comes from a Pittsburg fellow who I served with in the Corps..... The Clarks being from around there, I believe, once he was sent out to the rock that I was keeping warm in the Bering Sea, his girlfriend jilted him..... thoughts of him being so close to Siberia must have chilled her soul...... in any case, he introduced me - by his grief - to The Clarks..... and I always found this song a bit fascinating......

In a black and far off corner of my mind
There's a box of something I can't quite define
It houses circus freaks, temptation and bad trips
In an isolated corner of the box
There's a trap door covered up with dirt and rocks
It opens to the stairs that lead down to the crypt

Do you know where you're going when you've taken your last step
Do you know what you get?
Cigarette

On a dark and lonely road in my hometown
Stands a house that long ago should've been torn down
It reeks of love gone sour, suspicion and bad debt
On a weather beaten transom in the house
Walks a friend of mine that I call the old king mouse
He dances in the moonlight and sleeps out on the steps

Do you know where you're going when you've taken your last breath?
Do you know what you get?
Do you know where you're going when they've paid their last regrets?
Do you know what you get?
Cigarette

In a black and far off corner of my mind
There's a box of something I can't quite define
It houses circus freaks, temptation and the Fayette County Fair
And it reeks of love gone sour, suspicion and big hair

Do you know where you're going when you've taken your last breath?
Do you know what you get?
Do you know where you're going when the devil starts to sweat?
Do you know what you get?
A cigarette

... hey, I have no idea what the artists were thinking, but I always found their imagery quite interesting........

Eyes....

.... driving down to Chattanooga, I couldn't help having this song on my mind today....... odd, I know...... but tonight I've been singing it all the way home...... much to the chagrin of The Missus......

Haydn.....

.... it has been a rough few weeks here, rubberneckers....... but, as things always are, we move on and keep on keepin' on...... tomorrow is The Day....... and so, since I don't have that much to say right now, I will leave you with my favorite piece of uplifting music....... a piece that I have loved since the very first moment that it passed by my ears........

.... I do hope that you enjoy, folks...... after all, if God exists, I would bet some serious cash that he plays a cello in his spare time....... or a violin....... or a French horn........ hell, at the VERY least, he is a great fan of Haydn, Vivaldi, and all that composed for strings..........

I love Haydn. I took a music theory and appreciation class in college (I was thinking of minoring in music) and it was one of my favorite classes. There would be days where all we did was listen ot classical or baroque music. Calms the college aged soul, it does.

I say often if I ever acquire the cash and the time, I'm taking up the harp. The cello looks too difficult!!!

Blues....

.... when I was a senior in high school, I used to tune the tape deck to this song and then race to town (to pick up my little brother from school) and see if I could make it back home before the song ended....... it was an 8-mile round trip, and I usually made it....... just as long as the local copper was still managing the school traffic where it merged onto highway 411, that is......

.... enjoy.... hey, it is one of those songs that sounds all that much better the louder that you turn up the sound....... Ry Cooder at his best.......

.... funny, really..... I always imagined the ebb and flow of his notes almost like the sensation of "breathing"..... I can still close my eyes, listen to this, and feel my chest reacting to the changing notes......